


The Heretofore Unprecedented Hug

by nutmeg223



Series: Runs in the Lineage [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan deserves nice things, Padawan Braids, Padawan Obi-Wan, The Force is impatient, Working out family issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-21 23:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8264545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223
Summary: Wherein the Force is impatient, Obi-Wan is adorable and awkward, Mace Windu has a conversation with a junior Padawan and DOESN'T make them cry, and the Archivists are looking out for the tiny Padawans.





	

Obi-Wan stood, stock-still and barely breathing, in the center of the living room. The small, unassuming blue sack clutched in his hands should have seared off his skin, but all it did was sit there, quietly existing as the instrument of his demise. His brain raced as he tried to come up with some sort of reasonable plan, although the litany of "Kriff! Kriff! Kriff!" rather interfered with rational thought.

Qui-Gon was going to _kill him_.

He would be dead, at 14, a complete disappointment of a Padawan. He would _never_ have an opportunity to make his Master proud of him, to feel the warmth of his approval resonate through their bond. Unless he could wrest some semblance of control over his racing thoughts and come up with a _plan_. He had, at most, an hour before his Master returned from sparring with Master Windu. So, he could panic later.

He breathed deeply, released his anxiety to the Force, and ordered his thoughts. He _thought_ he could trust the Archivists to help, although he had to get down there and back in less than an hour. It wouldn't do for him to be anywhere but where his Master expected him to be. Unexplained absences never went down well, and always resulted in swift and mostly inconvenient discipline.

He took two steps toward the door and his robe when he felt...Qui-Gon...coming down the hallway? Agitated? Acting quickly, Obi-Wan dove for the sofa and shoved the sack under the cushions. It would at least do until he could spirit the contraband out of their quarters. He hoped.

His Master burst through the door, carrying Master Windu over one shoulder like a sack of grain. If sacks of grain were inclined to be a bit brusque and bad-tempered when not unconscious. Obi-Wan dragged his brain back from that tangent and tried not to whimper when Qui-Gon flopped Master Windu onto the sofa. Something crunched under the Korun Master.

By some small grace, Qui-Gon appeared not to notice, and turned to Obi-Wan. He dropped to his knees and pulled Obi-Wan into a bone-crushing hug.

A hug!

 _A HUG_!!!

Obi-Wan hugged him back, instinct overriding common sense, and buried his face in Qui-Gon's shoulder. Qui-Gon let him cling for a moment before pushing him back enough to peer into his face. His hands trembled a bit on Obi-Wan's upper arms.

"Obi-Wan, never, _never_ doubt that you are tremendously dear to my heart. You are my Padawan, my _child_ , and I would…" his voice broke slightly. "I...I need to go in a moment. I need to find Tahl...some balance. But child, you are ever beloved of my heart. Do _not_ doubt that. Do you understand me?"

Obi-Wan nodded, throat too tight to speak. Did he dream? Had he fallen asleep?

"Answer me, young one."

"Yes, Master. I understand." Obi-Wan squeaked.

"Good. Look after Master Windu. Make some tea; he's had as much of a shock as I have. I'll return, soon."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan squeaked again as Qui-Gon dragged him into another fierce embrace before turning him loose.

Obi-Wan watched, deeply confused, as his Master strode out of their quarters. He could feel their bond, stronger than he'd ever felt it before, and took comfort in that.  

He supposed he should have tea ready to be made, although he had no idea when Master Windu would come around. His own hands shook a bit, though, with the force of Qui-Gon's...Qui-Gon's _love_ for him, so maybe he could wait just until the manic urge to giggle faded a little. Crimes Against Tea were also swiftly punished, and didn't bear thinking about. He breathed his shock out, into the Force, and pulled calm to him - simple actions he'd learned at his Creche-Master's knee. Slowly, his hands shook less and he felt a good deal steadier.

He went to the kitchen, and let the familiar act of making a pot of tea further calm him. He chose his own favored blend, a little less intense and astringent than his Master's. Boil water, warm the pot, measure tea, and steep for three verses of "Away in the Summer Meadow", but only when Qui-Gon couldn't hear. When his Master was about, it was steep for three verses of "The Lovely Lights of Autumn (and Golden Fields of Naboo)". He'd only once made the mistake of letting his Master hear him singing the former, and could still taste the viscous bitterness of being dosed with _jeffret_ oil. Blech.

He poured himself a cup and settled the teapot under a cozy. It would stay warm enough for a while, should Master Windu be unconscious for that long. He found his coursework data chip and settled down in the chair across from the sofa with his tea. He might as well get some work done while he waited.

\-----------------------------

Mace Windu groaned, shifted, and suppressed the urge to yelp as something hard dug into his spine.

"Sith-sucking, mother-kriffing, son of a…" but he wasn't alone. He trailed off, hauling himself upright, as everything came back to him.

He ignored the gasp and sound of something clattering to the floor behind him, and turned instead to the sofa on which he'd come to. He dug under the cushions,  ignored the whimper behind him, and yanked out a small sack of...data chips? He investigated further and involuntarily raised an eyebrow as he turned.

And faced Obi-Wan Kenobi, pale and trembling.

"Holo-porn, Padawan?" he asked. "This is a serious breach of conduct."

"They're not mine, I swear, Master Windu. I...I _wouldn't_ ...I _couldn't_. Master Qui-Gon would...I didn't know what to do." The boy wrung his hands, clearly sincere, and completely miserable.

"If they're not yours, then how did they come into your possession?"

"I...I'm in Outer Rim Cultures with the Senior Padawans. It's a big lecture, and after, I was trying to get through the crowd. Someone said something, and then the sack was in my hands. I didn't know what they were until I got back here."

Kenobi practically hunched in on himself, head ducked and shame swirling into the Force.

"Someone said something? What, Padawan?" Mace gentled his tone, fractionally. Qui-Gon would kill him if he made the kid cry.

"Maybe this'll get the stick out, you suck-up little shi...I really can't say that word, not even quoting. Master will kill me." Kenobi's lip wobbled, and Mace felt a moment of panic of his own.

"Thank you, Padawan, you've been very helpful. I've been trying to track down from where exactly this filth has been coming into the Temple. I have a few more ideas. I'll take care of it, and let Qui-Gon know that someone needs to be there when you get out of class."

"Master Windu! Please, no! I can handle it!" Obi-Wan suddenly seemed to realize he wasn't shouting at his own Master. "I...I'm _terribly sorry_ , Master Windu. I quite forgot myself for a moment. Whatever course of action you think is necessary will be...appreciated."

 _He_ appreciated a teen-ager who understood respect and obedience.

"Very well, Padawan. Now, where is your Master?"

"He...I think with Master Tahl? I...would you like a cup of tea? It's warm, and Master said you had a shock."

And thank you Qui-Gon Jinn for spreading that about.

"I find I'm recovered enough to go and find your Master. I'll take care of these," he shook the bag, "first, though. You won't have to worry about such things again."

"Thank you, Master Windu. And...thank you for believing me."

Mace made a mental note to check Kenobi's file, that he'd have to say thank you for something so fundamental. He knew about the Bandomeer disaster,  but had there been something beyond that?

"Yes, well. Get back to your lessons. You can thank me by excelling. No, no need to see me out, but I will let your Master know that your manners are impeccable."

There, he'd left the kid beaming, and he'd had a conversation with someone under the age of 17 that didn't end in tears and disciplinary proceedings.

"Thank you Master Windu!" The happy chirp followed him into the hall.

Mace waited until the door closed behind him to lean on the wall and breathe very slowly for a long while. Seeing Kenobi, still so young and trusting, had thrown him more than he liked to admit.

Obi-Wan dropped back into his seat and scooped his data pad up off the floor. Master Qui-Gon would be extremely put out to see him treating his things so poorly. He sipped more of his tea and sighed, returning his attention to the screen. He really needed to finish his reading and outline, or he'd be in for it.  The panic of not even an hour earlier slowly receded under the combined effects of tea and some seriously boring reading.

\-------------------

Obi-Wan left Outer Rim Cultures with his head high, hoping that Master Windu wouldn't really have said anything to his Master. He let out the breath he'd been holding when he didn't see his Master anywhere.

"Hey kiddo!" Mintaerael peeled off the wall and dropped her arm over his shoulders. "How was class?" she tweaked his braid affectionately.

"Minty!" he whined back at her, batting at her hand. "Stop that!"

"Pfft." Mintaerael tweaked his braid again. "Come on, you can help me with a problem I'm having."

"What?" he asked, suspiciously. It didn't do to go blindly into _anything_ with the Archivist Initiates. He eyed her long braid, tucked behind her ear, but decided against going for it. He’d only tried that _once_.

"Stress baking. We're re-doing the whole cataloging system, and it's giving me fits. Well, Madame Nu is giving us all fits. So, baking, because I’m not allowed to murder her in her sleep. I, umm, made a lot of your favorites.”

“You made the favorite biscuit of the Padawan of a notoriously sugar-phobic Master?” Obi-Wan asked,  slowly, as Mintaerael steered him toward the Archives. “Do you have a death wish?”

“Pfft. He won’t _kill_ me. Maybe maim a little, but not kill. And that’s only if I send you back all sugared up. C’mon Obi-love, live a little.”

“I’d like to _keep_ living, thank you very much. I should probably get back soon, anyway.”

“You sound glum, my lad. Trouble with your Master?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “He’s been overprotective since last week. He just...I’m not used to so much attention, I guess.”

“What happened, dove? You were trying to get any of his attention last time we talked.”

“He and Master Windu shared a vision. Neither one will tell me what it was about, but they’re both being _weird_ . Master Qui-Gon keeps _hugging_ me, and I think Master Windu keeps staring at me in the Commissary. It’s _weird_.”

“Hmm, well, we’ll get you home, then. I’ll pop by later with your biscuits and Dav. He’s been wanting to check up on our Obi.”

Obi-Wan batted at her fingers again, as they went for his braid, and couldn’t quite suppress a giggle. They scuffled their way to Obi-Wan’s door, raising a few disapproving looks on their way.

“Be good, brat, and enjoy your Master’s attention. You deserve nice things.” Mintaerael cupped his cheek in her hand and kissed his forehead.

“Minty!” Obi-Wan complained. “Now _you’re_ being weird.”

“Yes,” Mintaerael deadpanned. “Because expressing one’s feelings is so odd. Let me know if we can stop by after evening meal, hmm?”

“I will. Um, and thanks?”

“Don’t know what you're talking about.” Mintaerael tweaked his braid one last time before she headed off.

Obi-Wan shook his head, bemused.  He thought, maybe, Master Windu had a word with some of the Archivist Initiates out of Raven Clan. Or they just _knew_ he needed backup.  They _were_ strange that way. He’d heard rumors that they’d _planned_ who from their cohort would go to Agricorps, who would apprentice to remain at the Temple in support, and who would try for knighthood.

He palmed the door open and scooted in, breathing deeply as it closed behind him. He had enough time before Master Qui-Gon came back to tidy himself and get tea together. He set about his afternoon, more content than he’d been in a long time.


End file.
